


Keep Me (Here)

by Not_You



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Bottom Erik, Coming Untouched, Consensual Mind Control, Crying During Sex, Dominant Bottom, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Erik has Feelings, Erik has Issues, Feels, Fisting, Gay Mutant Road Trip, Held Down, Hotel Sex, Hotels, Kink Shame, M/M, Naked Male Clothed Male, Oral Sex, Penis Size, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn as Plot, Recreational Drug Use, Riding, Sexual Fantasy, Size Kink, Stoner Sean, Telepathic Sex, Tickle Fights, Top Charles, Trust, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Vulnerability, enormous ridiculous comeshot, erik is a sharp-dressed man, submissive bottom, wall-to-wall smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-08 23:35:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1960440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_You/pseuds/Not_You
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Long ago, there was a simple prompt: someone just wanted some Erik on the bottom.  I have since lost track of it, but here is a no-divorce AU told in sex scenes, which began as just one scene on the roadtrip.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

People seem to think that telepathy is omniscience. But knowing every language in the world does not prevent misunderstandings, and even though Charles has known somewhere in the back of his mind since the night they met that it was going to come to this, he isn't expecting the form the encounter takes.

“Please,” Erik gasps against Charles's mouth, shaking and already half-drunk on kisses. Charles can feel that, can feel just how much Erik has missed kissing. He can also feel the hunger inside Erik. “Please,” Erik mumbles again, unbuckling Charles's belt with shaking hands, “please, Charles, please, I can't- I can't say it, I can't, just look into my head.” 

Erik so rarely invites this kind of thing that Charles is almost afraid to take him up on it, but then he's sliding into Erik's mind and _oh_. Erik's whole humming, tense, metallic nature flows over Charles, and he sees the image Erik wants him to. It is of Erik on all fours, his face twisted up in unbearable ecstacy as Charles thrusts into him from behind. Charles is impressed at the level of detail, and of how _hard_ Erik wants it. Erik moans, full of hunger and a note of... not shame, embarrassment. There's a confused flicker of thought, that Charles is an Oxford boy and probably thinks full-on sodomy is beastly, and Charles laughs.

“Not a bit of it, dear,” he murmurs against Erik's lips as he kisses him again. “I would love to be inside you.” 

Erik blushes, biting Charles's neck and then stepping back, stripping to the skin in a matter of seconds. Charles can't hope to match the pace, and slows down a little more just to watch Erik watching him. Erik is sitting on the edge of the bed now, stroking himself slowly, the motion ferociously controlled as he stares at Charles with those feral eyes full of want. Charles shivers, and can't help but feel a little embarrassment about his body next to Erik's trim and toned magnificence. He must look quite round and soft, but Erik seems to like it.

“Come here,” Erik growls, reaching for him, and Charles obeys. Those long, strong hands wrap around his arse, giving it a loving squeeze as Erik tows Charles in to nuzzle his belly, rumbling like a big cat and nibbling at Charles's ineradicable paunch. He mumbles something in German, and Charles catches the essence of it, that he could just eat Charles up.

“Mm. I'm glad to please.”

“You do,” Erik purrs, giving him a last loving nuzzle before pulling Charles down into his lap. Charles straddles him, grinning and kissing Erik deeply, thrusting slowly against his cock and making him shiver.

“You want it on all fours?” Charles murmurs. “I think I'd like you on your back, so I can see your face.” Erik whines sharply, and his sudden spike of embarrassed lust goes to Charles's head like liquor. “Oh, so you'd like that too?” Charles purrs.

“Fuck me,” Erik gasps, low and rough. “Please, Charles, fuck me.”

Charles shudders and gives Erik another deep, sloppy kiss before shifting out of his lap and guiding him to lie full-length on the bed, where he clutches at the sheets while Charles scrambles for something to use as lube. Mercifully, there's lotion in the bathroom. He comes back to find Erik just the way he left him, lying on his back and breathing evenly. The line between his eyes stands out clearly, and his knuckles are white where he's still holding onto the sheet. He's so hard that Charles can see his cock twitch a little with his pounding heart, and he shivers.

“God, you're beautiful,” he murmurs, climbing onto the bed again and slicking up two fingers. Erik whimpers when Charles first touches his hole, shifting his hips from side to side and edging down the mattress. His body swallows Charles's fingers up, and he moans, parted thighs falling further away from each other. Charles swallows hard, stunned and feeling like his heart will beat its way out of his body.

 _fuck Charles want you want youwantyousomuch--_ Erik's thoughts are a hot jumble that makes Charles think of the darkness in the heart of a tropical forest, everything alive and hungry and poisonous and wet. The words vanish, but the feeling remains as Erik writhes on Charles's fingers, head tossing back and forth on the pillow as he knots his hands into the sheet. Charles laughs, breathless and happy, rubbing a hard circle in what must be just the right spot, if the pulses of sharp and helpless pleasure from Erik are any indication.

"More," Erik groans, and then crams a corner of the pillow into his mouth as Charles shivers and slides his fingers most of the way out, pushing back in with three, and twisting gently as Erik whines, the sound high-pitched and pathetic, carrying a flush of shame with it that does nothing to dent all the arousal that's already there.

 _Such a nice sound,_ Charles tells him, _so sweet. So pretty._

 _Charles Charles please please don't please need you--_ This time Charles cuts him off. Gentle, the telepathic equivalent of putting a finger to Erik's lips, but definite.

 _Easy, Erik. I'll give you what you need._ With the words he sends a wave of acceptance and lust and just how honored he feels to be trusted with Erik's vulnerability. Erik makes a small, formless sound, and lets go of the sheet to pull Charles into a rough, filthy kiss, all teeth and tongue. Charles shudders and lets Erik devour his mouth for a long moment before pulling away and pulling out to slather the last of the lotion over his aching cock. Erik stares, pupils pooled wide.

"Fuck, _Charles_ ," he breathes, and tangles arms and legs around him, pulling him down and sucking in a deep, harsh breath as Charles carefully guides himself in. "Ohh..." Erik starts to beg again, cycling through all his languages and then biting Charles's shoulder to muffle a groan. It makes Charles's hips buck, burying him deep inside Erik, who keens and bites even harder. Charles shudders and just holds there, filling Erik up as those long legs wrap around his waist, muscles lightly quivering beneath smooth, warm skin.

"So beautiful," Charles gasps, mind knocked sideways by Erik's pleasure. He kisses him and then laces their fingers together, pressing Erik's forearms above his head as he starts to thrust slow and deep. Erik gasps, legs squeezing Charles.

"Harder," he growls, and then groans as Charles pulls halfway out and then slams back in. He struggles a little in Charles's grasp, and grits his teeth to keep back some louder noise, sending Charles an image and a sensory impression and an idea all rolled up together of Charles's hand over his mouth. The warmth and the pressure and how safe Erik feels with Charles on top of him and inside him, holding him down and keeping him here. Charles shudders, and presses a hand over Erik's mouth, moaning at the way Erik tightens around him and how his mind reaches for Charles. He wants to be filled and overpowered and loved, and Charles is willing to do all those things, fucking Erik's body hard enough for him to feel it later, and pushing his mind into Erik's as well. He has seldom dared to do anything like this before, but Erik knows what he is and cries out against Charles's palm, letting him in and shaking all over as Charles rolls warmth and love and desire through him. He's so deeply aware of all the harm Charles could do him, but right now he trusts him utterly.

Neither of them are sending words anymore, just feeling-image-tastes, telepathic pulses for which there are no words. Charles knows just how much Erik loves this, and him, and knows that he knows that Charles knows, and they're completely tangled and blended and still utterly themselves. The eye of a storm of emotions, Erik feels safe. He wants Charles to keep him safe, to keep him here, and Charles fucks him harder and faster, pinning him to the bed in every way he can.

They come at the same time, of course. They're far too close for anything else to happen, and it shakes both of them for a long time, reverberating between them until they're both completely exhausted. Charles sighs, and eases out of Erik slowly. First he carefully, carefully slides out of Erik's thoughts, pressing a few last telepathic kisses to his dazed mind. Once they're both fully encapsulated again, he takes his hand from Erik's mouth, kissing his wet, reddened lips. Erik whimpers and kisses back, grabbing two handfuls of Charles's hair as soon as Charles stops holding him down.

"There, darling," Charles murmurs into Erik's mouth. "There." Erik mewls something in garbled German and Spanish when Charles's soft cock slips out, and Charles chuckles, kissing him again. "I'm right here, sweet boy."


	2. Chapter 2

Charles isn't surprised to wake up alone. He isn't pleased with it, but he can't say he wasn't expecting it. Once he's up and dressed, he knocks on the adjoining door. "Erik?"

"Nearly ready," Erik says, brusque and guarded. Charles sighs, feeling a buzz of anxiety from him. It continues all day, enough to give Charles a slight headache. By the time they stop for lunch, he's feeling guilty for giving Erik what he asked for. Across the table Erik glowers down at his sandwich like it has personally offended him.

"Erik..."

He glances up, gaze flat and inscrutable. "What?"

Charles snorts in irritation. "You bloody well know what!" He has the satisfaction of seeing Erik blush faintly.

 _It's not safe for me to let you make me feel safe._ It's a cool, metallic thought, sliding easily into Charles's mind.

Charles encourages everyone in the building to pay no attention to them whatsoever, and takes Erik's hand, squeezing gently. "Erik, darling, we don't have to do anything you don't want."

 _I'm afraid of what I do want_ Erik sends, and for a moment Charles catches a glimpse of that dizzying and endless hunger.

After admitting that, Erik is easier. He stays in his own room that night, but the night after that finds him at Charles's door again, trembling slightly.

"Come in," Charles says, and Erik looks almost frightened as he steps inside, a nervous little exertion of his powers shutting the door behind him. He's tense and still quivering a bit, but he lets Charles cup his face in his hands and pull him down for a deep, slow kiss. _I want to give you what you need_ Charles purrs, and Erik moans. His thoughts are a roaring jumble of anxiety and desire, and Charles just strokes along them for a moment, soothing Erik without controlling him. "Come to bed, darling," he says softly, and Erik whines, blushing and letting Charles tow him over to the bed and push him down onto it.

"Can't look at you," Erik gasps, turning his head away and blushing. "Want you too much."

Charles shivers. "Strip and roll onto your belly, then, love." He watches as Erik obeys, enthralled by the way the long muscles in Erik's back shift under his sleek skin. "Beautiful," Charles sighs, trailing his fingertips down Erik's spine and making him shiver. He presses a kiss to the nape of Erik's neck, and sits back, pulling off his own clothes and tossing them onto a chair with Erik's.

"Please," Erik murmurs, and Charles bites his shoulder.

"Yes." He stands up and goes to the bathroom, finding the usual tiny bottle of hand lotion and coming back quickly. Erik is shaking, high-pitched little noises muffled in the pillows. Charles straddles his hips and Erik whines, higher and louder.

 _Charles Charles please I need_ the phrase doesn't finish because it doesn't have to. Erik needs.

 _Yes, dearest,_ Charles croons into Erik's mind, and strokes lotion over Erik's hole, making him spread his legs and grip the pillows more tightly than ever, almost smothering himself in them. "Yes," Charles murmurs, settling between those open legs, "such a good boy." Erik makes a pathetic little sobbing noise, raising his hips and crying out as Charles's first finger slips into his body like it was made to go there.

 _Charles!_ Erik's mind is vibrating with desperation and gratitude and a corrosive little coil of shame that makes Charles pause.

 _No. There is nothing wrong with this, with you for wanting it._ He sends his utter conviction of that across too, and Erik sobs, clenching and trembling. Charles waits for him to relax, and then pushes his second finger in beside the first, probing and stroking delicately. Erik lets out a broken, guttural noise, and Charles hugs him tightly with his free arm. _Beautiful. God, Erik, you're so fucking beautiful and I want you so much._

"Fuck me," Erik says, and it sounds like he's trying to growl impatiently but can't quite manage it. Charles shudders, and stretches him a little wider.

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," Erik gasps, looking over his shoulder, visible eye gleaming. He sends an idea/impression/prescient memory of Charles just taking him in an instant, forcing his cock in and making Erik's body open for him. Charles shakes, hips bucking reflexively.

"Jesus, Erik..."

"Do it," Erik snarls, and Charles shivers, slathering himself with lotion and slipping his third finger into Erik, twisting his hand as he thrusts in, making Erik growl again and thump one fist against the headboard. "Charles..."

"Hush," Charles murmurs, and slides his slick hand out, gripping his shaft and rubbing the head of his cock over Erik's hole, slow and hard. Just as Erik is drawing breath to complain again, Charles presses into him, biting his lip and whining softly as Erik swallows him up. Erik shudders and sobs quietly again, melting under Charles as he sinks deeper and deeper, finally bottoming out and grinding hard into Erik, who moans and tilts his hips up, self-consciousness washed away by just how much he loves this. Charles shivers and sets up a slow, hard rhythm, going as deep as is physically possible with each stroke. Erik is almost cooing now, making soft, happy noises of profound satisfaction. His arousal is still desperate and ratcheting higher with each moment, but something deeper than that is soothed. That feeling of safety is creeping up again, and they both realize it at the same time. There's a heartbreaking flash of fear from Erik, and Charles engulfs that anxious mind in his own, body wrapped over Erik's back like a blanket.

 _It's all right, Erik. It's all right and I am here with you._ The rest isn't in words because Erik isn't ready for words yet. Charles just holds his mind close as he rocks slowly in and out of his body, bathing Erik in as much of the affection and possessive protectiveness that he feels that his poor wounded boy can stand. For a moment he's afraid that it was too much, as Erik shakes all over and sobs into the pillows. He sounds broken, agonized, but his mind is writhing against Charles, ecstatic and lost and unafraid. He's long past words, but his desperate plea for more roars through Charles's mind, a wild, clawing thing. Charles shudders and bites Erik's neck hard, more to ground himself than for any other reason, his fingers curling around his sharp hipbone to haul him back into every thrust.

"God," he babbles, unsure if he's speaking with his mouth or not, "you just _want_ so much, Erik. It's gorgeous."

Erik whines, a red flush spreading to the tips of his ears and the back of his neck. _want you want you want you Charles CHARLES_ He arches his back more than Charles would have thought possible, lewd and lithe and desperate. For a long moment Charles just stops and lets Erik fuck himself until he starts to whine in frustration, trying to look back over his shoulder at Charles, head full of craving. Charles starts to thrust again, and Erik muffles a loud groan in the pillow, crying out softly as Charles pounds into him and slapping his hand away when he reaches around for Erik's cock. Just this, Erik wants, just Charles inside him. Charles can feel it on levels deeper than thought, and grits his teeth fighting to last until Erik finally convulses around him. His own climax is almost rolled under by the beauty of Erik's mind as he offers himself up for Charles to use, glowing with the feeling they can't call love yet. _fill me_ flickers across Charles's mind, and he does, biting Erik and holding on this time as he bucks and writhes, grinding as deep into Erik as he can before finally collapsing in a panting, sticky heap.

"Stay with me?" Charles asks, when both of them have caught their breath.

"No," Erik says, standing. He's still so thin, years of hardship carved into his body, and Charles wants to run his hands over and over those hard edges like a worry stone.

Charles just sighs and smiles. "Fine, but you're kissing me goodnight."

Erik smiles back, a shy and unexpected curl of the corner of his mouth. "Okay, Charles," he says, and then saunters off to shower, imperious as ever. Charles chuckles, and fixes up the bed as best he can before Erik comes out of the bathroom, damp and sleek and fully dressed. It's hardly fair at all, and he says so, murmuring into Erik's mind as he winds his arms around his neck and kisses him long and slow, a warm and lingering farewell.


	3. Chapter 3

A pattern emerges. Erik will come to Charles one night, refuse to stay, and then be distant all the next day. Sometimes he'll manage not to come back that night and the day after will be almost like things were before. It's going to be the death of Charles, and he's not sure he minds. Tonight there has been no sign of Erik, and Charles isn't sure if he's more relieved or disappointed. Tomorrow will be nice and friendly if Erik isn't desperately reinforcing his boundaries, but tonight could have been incredible. He sighs and settles into bed with his notebook, striking off the three prospects they talked to today, all of whom have declined to join. There are a dozen more, though, and he smiles at his own scrawled description of the feel of each mind, as well as their geographical coordinates in Hank's neat printing. And then a slick, cold, buzzing of anxiety caresses his mind, and he knows that Erik is in the hallway, debating between knocking on Charles's door and turning back to spend his evening alone. Charles consciously pulls back, to be absolutely sure that he's leaving Erik alone to make his own decision.

A moment later, there's a knock on the door, and Charles tries not to leap for it like a particularly randy gazelle. Erik smiles, amused through his tension. "Hey."

"Hey," Charles replies, hoping he doesn't sound as breathless as he feels. Erik shivers slightly, and takes two quick steps forward to pull Charles into his arms as the door shuts behind him. His grip is hard and possessive, and there's a heated, broody feeling running through him now. He just wants to keep Charles, to consume him and to be full of him forever. The desire is so strong that Charles can't help hearing it, especially not with his face hidden in Erik's shoulder, his hard cock pressing against Charles.

 _Fuck me_ Erik growls into Charles's mind. _Fill me up._

Charles can't help a high, sharp whimper, knees going a little weak as he leans into Erik. _God, yes._ He yelps in audible surprise when Erik picks him up like he weighs nothing, and moans quietly as Erik takes him to the bed, flinging back the covers and setting Charles down on the sheet.

"Don't move," Erik growls, and Charles whimpers his assent, just lying there and letting Erik strip him. There's a whole different kind of tension to Erik's mind, a hunger to dominate and overwhelm Charles, to take him apart and make him be the one to sob and keen with unbearable pleasure, to writhe and beg and spill his weakness everywhere. Charles shivers and goes limp, feeling his pulse in his hard cock as Erik bares it to the air. _Beautiful,_ Erik purrs into his mind, and Charles whines, sending the same sentiment back.

Erik bites his neck hard, and pulls away just long enough to get out of his own clothes, snarling at Charles when he reaches to help. _Just watch._

Charles watches, and makes a tiny and helpless sound when Erik straddles him, ostentatiously fingering himself. _Wish you were allowed to touch? Wish it was your fingers pushng up inside me where it's so hot and so soft?_

 _YES._ Charles is a little more emphatic than he means to be, and Erik blushes, cock twitching and shooting a tiny, clear jet of precome. He looks down at Charles with wide, luminous eyes, and Charles grabs onto the pillow to keep from touching when he's supposed to just watch. Erik moans quietly and bites his lip as he stretches himself wider, inviting Charles to ride along and feel it too. He of course takes Erik up on this generous offer, moaning softly and writhing a little underneath him. It's more than just the physical feedback, it's Erik's sleek and delicious metallic mind against his own, sinuous and beautiful. There's tension in it still, Erik wondering if he can keep control of this, if he can take Charles and not be overwhelmed, not fall apart with how much he loves this. Charles consciously holds back how much he loves seeing Erik so sweet and defenseless, and how much he has already come to love Erik himself. Some ghost of it must get through, because Erik blushes and trembles again before his mouth firms up and he slides his fingers out.

"Hold still," he murmurs, and Charles just nods, breathless and feverish and desperate to be inside Erik again. And then he is, Erik sinking down onto him all hot and tight and silky, groaning deep in his chest. Charles begs to touch, sending desire without words that makes Erik shake. He growls his permission, and that's all Charles needs, hands flying to that slim waist and then sliding up Erik's sides to wrap around his upper back and tug him down, desperate to kiss him. Erik seems to feel the same way, devouring Charles's mouth as he starts to ride him faster and faster, barely pulling up at all, determined to keep Charles as deep inside him as possible. He's full of possessive, predatory thoughts about devouring Charles, keeping him and owning him and consuming him, but they're not frightening because Charles can feel the love on them, like indirect heat, sun radiating off a sidewalk.

Erik moans into his mouth, telling Charles without words how wonderful his cock feels, buried deep inside Erik and satisfying the hunger there, the longing for just this, for someone Erik can trust to hold him and fill him. Charles shivers and wraps around Erik as best he can, clinging to him and letting him fuck his mouth, tongue greedy and loving, warm and slick and pushing into Charles the way he's pushing into Erik.

 _Beautiful_ Charles whispers into Erik's mind, moaning around that demanding tongue. _So fucking beautiful, Erik, so perfect..._ Erik just sends a tremulous wave of loving this and hating it because his control is starting to slip, and he's starting to feel safe. _You are safe with me,_ Charles promises softly, as Erik whines into his mouth, starting to melt against him. Charles shivers and rubs his back, covering his face in gentler kisses before rolling them over because he can feel how much Erik wants it, how much he loves Charles's weight on top of him.

Erik moans, low and quiet and helpless, and whimpers when Charles bites and sucks at his throat. It's a high, piteous noise, the sound of a man feeling too much to bear and ashamed of his weakness but enjoying it too much to stop. Charles groans and bites, making Erik whimper again, clenching so tight on Charles that it almost hurts. He closes his eyes, and Charles knows that it's because he can't bear to look, to see how much Charles wants him. Tears well up and squeeze out to run down his cheeks, but Charles can feel that Erik is in no physical pain. He's close to coming and full and warm and the quick, deep strokes of Charles's cock are driving him higher and higher and he can't bear it.

After so much privation and suffering he doesn't know what to do with this feeling, and has no choice but to hold on to Charles and sob quietly, shaking and tightening with it, whining and moaning his pleasure when he has the breath for it. He feels defeated, too, and Charles kisses him deep and rough, sending as hard as he can the knowledge that Erik is not defeated, that he has never given up on anything and has survived so much and is so strong and that he deserves this, to be held and filled and loved. 

The depth of the feelings makes Charles start to cry too, and he snuffles into Erik's neck as his hips move on their own, faster and faster. Erik's mind begs Charles to come, and before Erik can stop it a fantasy slips out, the idea of Charles really filling him, coming pints and leaving him stuffed and filthy. Charles groans and comes, slamming hard into Erik and barely stopping himself from making him feel like there's more, knowing that after the heat of the moment Erik would never forgive him. As it is Erik bites Charles's shoulder hard, teeth almost breaking the skin as he muffles a wail, spurting slick and hot against Charles's belly.

"There," Charles coos, stroking Erik's hair as he trembles and clings like a drowning man. "There, love, it's all right." Erik whimpers quietly and hides his face in Charles's neck, catching his breath. "Are you going to be ashamed again and be cold to me all day tomorrow?" Charles asks softly. Erik whines, shaking his head and feeling a hot flush of shame not for surrendering himself to Charles like this but for how he has been acting about it, and Charles kisses him. "Ssh. None of that, sweetheart. None of that."


	4. Chapter 4

Erik's elation goes to Charles's head much more than champagne ever has. Their first success. Angel is going to come back with them to Langley. After finding people with abilities so weak that they choose not to identify as mutants and are glad to see the back of these two nosy freaks, and one infant child whose terrified mother had begged them not to tell anyone about her son, they have finally found someone willing to join them. She's staying in this very hotel, as a matter of fact. At Uncle Sam's expense, just like them. It almost seems a shame to bilk the government for Erik's room when he clearly won't be getting much use out of it, with the way he's crowding up behind Charles at the door of his, breath warm on the back of Charles's neck.

Impatient with Charles's fumbling with the key, he uses his powers, making it slither into the lock like a living thing and then turn and push the door open. _Thank you, darling_ , Charles murmurs into Erik's mind, and he feels the glow of his friend's lust and joy as he herds Charles to the bed. For a long moment he grinds against Charles's arse, and Charles wonders if tonight Erik will want to reverse their usual program. He feels the same thought flicker across Erik's mind and there is real desire there, but a deeper need swamps it. The need to be full and warm, something Erik will never be able to get enough of after his time in the camps. It is and isn't connected to food, and there is and isn't something sexual in the way Erik had cleaned his plate tonight, devouring the massive steak that came with their admission to the upscale club where Angel has been working. Charles hadn't been expecting the food to be so good, and had shivered at Erik's raw enjoyment of the red, tender flesh.

Now Erik sits Charles down on the bed, propping him back against the headboard and impatiently opening just enough of their clothing for him to climb into Charles's lap and grind along his hard cock, impatient and hungry. Charles whimpers, and begs with his mind and with his voice for Erik to not tease, to just please, please, please take what he wants. And then Erik does, and oh god he is _merciless_. He has finally figured out how to truly take control with Charles, relentless and projecting his own pleasure back into Charles's mind, the fullness and the rightness of it, how good it feels to have the smooth, delicate heat of Charles's cock pushed right up into him, as deep as he can possibly take it. He shares wild fantasies with Charles, of stretching forever, his whole body nothing but a sheath for cock, of Charles's whole hand inside him and of fucking himself on enormous metal dildos while Charles watches, bright eyes opening Erik up, seeing everything about him. It's frightening for him but he wants it so much and Charles struggles to reassure Erik through the haze, that he only wants to take what Erik wants to give, that he will never hurt him. 

There's a sweet softening to Erik for a moment, and then another blast of pleasure that nearly knocks Charles senseless. He groans and gives in, only transmitting a faint and helpless warning when he knows he's about to come.

 _do it_ Erik growls into his mind, _I want it_

Charles kisses him to muffle a scream, clutching at the back of Erik's jacket as he thrusts up into him, coming hard and sending his desire to Erik, letting him know that he would _really_ fill him if he could. Erik moans into his mouth and rides him as long as he's hard enough, milking the last of it out of him and leaving him sore and shuddering. Erik is still hard, gazing down at him with inscrutable eyes.

"Sorry?" Charles murmurs, smiling and not sorry at all. Erik smiles back.

"How are you going to make it up to me?"

Charles has a few ideas, but there's an intermission where they get out of their clothes. Even with lube and come glistening on his inner thighs and his heartbeat visible in his iron-hard cock, Erik is capable of taking a moment to fuss over the wrinkles left by Charles's clutching hands, and Charles laughs.

"You were the one who didn't stop to do this before."

Erik chuckles, smoothing out his jacket as he hangs it up. "Yes, I was." Naked and beautiful, he turns to Charles. "Now, weren't you going to make something up to me?"

"I was," Charles growls, and pounces. Soon he has Erik in bed again, flat on his back and gasping harshly as Charles nuzzles him, breathing in his sharp, musky scent and just teasing, teasing with the barest touch of soft lips and the tip of his nose, running his tongue out to taste only when he can't stand to wait anymore. Charles loves sucking cock, and he makes a feast of Erik, humming and moaning softly, not doing anything to minimize his occasional, light slurping. The sound makes Erik shudder, and when Charles sends him the idea he moans, grabbing a pillow to muffle himself.

 _Charles Charles Charles I can't I need please please_ Erik's mental voice is almost as breathless as his physical one would be, and Charles shudders, pushing two fingers in where he's still loose and wet and fucking him deep and hard, barely pulling back at all and adding a third when he feels how much Erik wants it, in the waves of desire from his mind and the way his body is almost sucking on Charles's fingers. He whimpers helpless curses in all his languages, hips rolling a little, fiercely controlled because he doesn't want to throw Charles off his rhythm. This consideration is enough to make Charles laugh. Telepathically, of course. His mouth is far too busy.

 _Let me taste you, darling,_ Charles purrs into Erik's mind, and Erik sobs and jerks, coming so hard it almost chokes Charles before he adjusts and swallows it all, hands moving of their own volition to slide up and down Erik's flanks. He's still lean as hardship, and Charles is filled with the sudden and desperate urge to feed him. Instead he just kisses one projecting hip bone and gets up for a drink of water, leaving Erik happily sprawled, looking as lazy and smug as a cat in a sunbeam. His thoughts match his appearance, and Charles smiles, immensely pleased with himself.

"You look almost relaxed, Erik," he says, returning with a damp washcloth and wiping Erik off as he lounges and lets Charles attend him. "You could be a Roman emperor," Charles murmurs, and Erik grins at him.

"Are you my beautiful slaveboy, then?"

"Oh, definitely," Charles says, pressing a kiss to Erik's inner thigh.

"No," Erik says softly, the idea of slavery resonating wrong even if they are just playing. He pulls Charles up to kiss him on the mouth. "My high priest, who worships me as a god incarnate. That's better."

Charles laughs into his mouth, kissing him again and insinuating his thigh between Erik's. "Yes, my lord." He looks up through his eyelashes at Erik, consciously coquettish. Erik smirks and taps him on the nose like a misbehaving puppy.

"I like mutton as much as lamb, silly boy." He gently tugs on Charles's hair, not enough to hurt, and kisses his forehead right where Charles knows he'll have wrinkles when he actually is an old man instead of just dressing like one.

"I guess they are both kosher."

Erik laughs, a gentle, sad sound. "The war knocked that right out of me. Beggars can't be choosers." Charles feels terrible for bringing it up at all, and kisses Erik, letting him feel a bit of it. Erik chuckles into his mouth, rubbing his back. "It's all right." He nibbles at Charles's ear, murmuring, "I don't believe in god, anyway." That's depressing in its own way, and Erik must feel it because he makes an exasperated noise and rolls Charles onto his back, using all that lethal, hard-won strength and speed to pin Charles down and tickle him until he's shrieking with laughter into the pillow, twitching and shuddering long after Erik pulls away. He sits there being smug for a while, and is woefully unprepared when Charles leaps on him, hands worming in under his arms and making him yelp. He writhes and kicks, but he's not using his full strength, and Charles is so touched by this display of vulnerability that he stops and kisses Erik, soft and sweet and taken completely by surprise when Erik pins him again, grinning with what always seems like an inhuman amount of teeth.


	5. Chapter 5

Darwin doesn't really drive them all the way to Richmond. Instead they circle around the city for a while, talking, and then they go back to the cab company so he can turn in the car and walk out, because he's sick of their shit anyway. That's not what he says, but it is what he's thinking. Feeling the low and constant hum of hostility, Charles can't blame him. These men are almost all of that certain breed of European-extracted white New Yorker that overlooks its own foreign origins to hate blacks, Jews, Italians, Poles, and anyone else they can think of. Faggots especially, of course, and they're not too keen on college boys, either. As they talk to Darwin's boss the feelings get uglier, tinged with envy and self-hate. By the time they can finally leave, Charles feels sick to his stomach, and knows he must look pale and shocky because Erik curses and takes off his coat, wrapping it around Charles's shoulders.

"You okay?" Darwin asks, and Charles nods, leaning on Erik a little because it's perfectly normal for a man to lean on his friend if he's sick.

"I'll be all right."

"Oh, right. There have been times I thought I could hear those crackers thinking, and that was bad enough." He looks brooding for a moment as they stand on the corner, waiting for the light to change and let them across.

"Well, now you're among your own kind," Erik says, helping Charles along the crosswalk, and Darwin laughs, happy and free.

"I guess so."

"And our only other recruit so far is also colored," Charles adds. "A girl, though, and much paler than you. Would you like to see her?"

"I prefer 'black,' and yeah, I would." Charles sends him a delicate burst of apologetic thought, and a picture of Angel. "Lovely," Darwin says, meaning her wings as much as the rest of her.

"She spits acid," Erik says with a smile, "but I suppose you could make yourself some armor if you offended her."

"I'll try to avoid it," Darwin says, smiling back.

They can't get a flight to Virginia today, and so check into yet another hotel. Erik is suprisingly sociable, and they both have a drink with Darwin to celebrate. Just the one. They have to get up in the morning, and the way Erik is looking at Charles would be searing through him even without the telepathy. He mentions their schedule to Darwin, and then gets Erik up to their floor as fast as he decently can. Erik's mind is burning against his now, with a cooler thread of concern, worried that he's still hurting from contact with Darwin's former colleagues. It's a precious little thing, some sweetness that hasn't been ground out of Erik by his vengeance and pain. Charles shivers, and gets his door open. These rooms adjoin, and Erik goes into his own for a moment, and Charles can feel him scouting the place out, making sure there are no bugs or hidden cameras or lurking assassins.

Having done a telepathic sweep of his own, Charles is content to remove and neatly hang his clothes before flinging the covers aside and sprawling on the sheets, half-hard already and not touching himself, enjoying the desire like hunger before a meal. Erik comes in and Charles feels a bit guilty for thinking of it like that in the presence of someone who has been starved, and then can't think about anything but how beautiful Erik is as he comes to the bed, eyes intent and gleaming with an almost religious fervor. Charles reaches out and Erik crawls into his arms, nuzzling into the crook of his neck and just breathing in, clothes crisp and cool against Charles's flushed skin.

"All right?" he mumbles, gently biting.

"Y-yes," Charles gasps, shivering. Erik growls, lazy and warm, and starts to cover Charles in kisses and bites, like he's trying to memorize him. Charles sighs and lets him, melting completely under Erik's attentions. He can feel the way his passivity touches Erik, making him hot and wild and desperate to claim Charles, to own and consume him.

For the first time since they've started this, Erik settles between Charles's legs, opening his fly and hissing as he carefully frees his cock, almost unbearably tender by now. "All right?" he asks again, inflection and meaning different as the feeling of his mind has become different, soft and diffident.

"Absolutely," Charles says, and laughs when Erik pulls a small, medical-looking white tube out of his pocket. "When--?"

"When you weren't looking, of course," Erik says, and slicks two fingers in a single deft movement before setting the tube aside and stroking over Charle's hole, making him bite his lip and tremble.

 _You won't break me,_ Charles sends, _At least, not unpleasantly._ What he gets back from Erik is an unformed wave of lust and protective possessiveness, and a little anxiety related to how precious Charles is to him and how dangerous that feeling is and-- Charles kisses him to distract him, and he can feel Erik's awareness of the ploy as well as his willingness to go along with it. Keeping up with the layers of Erik's rapid thoughts and complex emotions makes Charles feel fuzzy around the edges, and he just clings, his legs wrapping around Erik's hip and his nails digging into his shoulders.

Erik is very gentle with him, almost tentative, but when he pushes in at last it feels like Charles was made to take him, that there's no way it could possibly hurt. He projects to Erik, and dimly hears a deep groan with his physical ears. Really, he's more interested in how Erik feels, like he's melting into Charles, afraid of his lack of fear at being so close to another human being. Charles wraps around him to hold him fast and keep him from pulling away.

 _oh Charles Charles please hold me please keep me here_ a hot droplet splashes onto Charles's face, and he realizes that Erik is weeping again, his tears coming in easy silence and brimming on the lower lids of eyes that look silver now, before falling in a warm rain onto Charles. He wishes Erik had bothered to take off his clothes, but there's something to this, fabric like armor around Erik except for the one place where he's so vulnerable, drowning inside Charles. He grabs fistfuls of cloth and then lets them go to take hold of Erik's hips, to guide him deeper, faster, and harder, murmuring into Erik's mind not to be afraid, that Charles can take it, that he has him and won't let go, that he'll keep Erik here.

Erik sobs aloud and buries his face in Charles's neck, unable to stop from projecting the love he feels, but terrified of it and beyond unwilling to use words. That's all right, though, and Charles reassures him as best he can. Erik whines, and then regains himself enough to reach between them to stroke Charle's cock, hard and fast, with the same frantic roughness now coming into his thrusts. Charles groans and his body tightens up of its own accord, squeezing Erik and making him let out a series of broken little whimpers, shaking hand speeding up on Charles's flesh.

"Yes," Charles murmurs, physical voice doubling up with his mental one, "yes, Erik, do it, I need to feel you inside me."

Erik groans like a dying man, and pours himself into Charles, hips bucking helplessly for almost a full minute. By the end of it his breathing is ragged and he looks worn out and helpless, panting into Charles's neck and full of pleasure and relief and light shame that Charles hasn't come yet.

 _It's all right, sweet boy,_ he murmurs into Erik's mind. He's desperate for his own climax, but at the same time feels like he could wait for forever. A moment later Erik's hand is on him again, slow and steady and strong, speeding up as Charles bucks his hips and whimpers, holding Erik's soft cock inside him like a secret. Erik shudders and moans with Charles when he comes, and Charles can feel how sensitive Erik is now, and how every helpless clench of his own body hurts him just a bit. He loves this pain, though, and slides out afterward only with the greatest reluctance.

They don't say anything for a long time. They just lie there and get their breath back until finally Erik gets up and gets his clothes properly off, making little feline noises of discontent at the wet spots and wrinkles. Charles just props himself up a bit on the pillows, too lazy to sit, and laughs at him.

"It's your own fault, love."

Erik snorts, carrying it all with him into the bathroom, where Charles can hear water running off and on for a long time. He pictures Erik scrubbing his trousers with a toothbrush, and laughs harder than ever.


	6. Chapter 6

When Charles realizes that his next prospect is actually in prison, they have to call home and ask a favor. After swearing to be responsible for him and pointing out that his criminal record is a sadly normal one for an aged-out foster kid, Charles is allowed to go and collect Alex Summers. Beside him, Erik is a thrumming note of discomfort, fear, anger at the fear, and anger at the entire concept of prisons in general. More than anything, Charles wants to hold his hand, but the strain of distracting all the various watchers would be too much. He settles for putting a hand on Erik's shoulder and gently squeezing for just a moment.

 _It will be all right, Erik._ He doesn't add in words that Erik is safe with him, but the feeling is there and it embarrasses and pleases Erik in equal measure. It also soothes him a little, and he is quite calm by the time they reach solitary confinement, where Alex is waiting for them. He's all shoulders and glowering eyes, so young and trying so hard to be untouchable. He doesn't speak unless spoken to, and collects a pitiful little pile of personal effects at the desk. He looks like he doesn't care if he goes free or not, but Charles can feel an intense and tremulous exaltation rising in him. 

Charles smiles at him. "I look forward to working with you," he says, and leads the way outside, feeling a little giddy with Alex's and Erik's relief. Alex blinks in the light of day, and they pause for a moment to let him adjust before leading him down the steps and to the rental car. Once they're inside with seat-belts fastened and Erik behind the wheel because Erik insists on driving, Alex swallows and speaks for the first time.

"...You guys aren't faggots, right?" There's a sharp flare of hostility in Erik's mind, but he doesn't say anything, eyes on the road and hands tightly gripping the wheel.

"I don't really see how it matters," Charles says, twisting around in the the passenger seat to look at him. "Even if we were homosexuals, your virtue would be safe with us."

"...Okay." Alex says, "I've had enough of that shit. I mean. The whole mutant thing kept 'em off, but not from trying."

Charles nods. "No one will bother you on our watch, Alex. And that's a promise." Erik just nods, and Alex makes a vague noise of acknowledgement, slumping back into the seat as they drive off.

The tension doesn't really leave Erik's shoulders for a long time, and that night his mind is full of pink triangles when he comes to see Charles. Charles shuts the door behind him and kisses him rather than say anything, and he slowly, slowly relaxes, even if his arms stay locked around Charles's waist.

"It's all right," Charles says softly, kissing the line of Erik's jaw. "It's all right." He presses another kiss to the side of his neck, and Erik whimpers, trembling. Charles murmurs soothingly in his mind, gently towing him over to the bed. It's strange, sitting on the edge of the mattress and carefully removing their clothes, but it feels necessary to Charles. He folds each piece, and he can feel Erik noting that he has done it wrong and appreciating the effort anyway. Charles smiles, and pushes him onto his back, crawling over him to kiss him again. Charles's warm, sliding skin is heating up the cold, grey places inside Erik, and he needs more. He'll probably always need more, and Charles feels helpless and honored and exasperated and very much in love. He makes sure to keep the word from Erik if not the feeling, and kisses him in the deep, rough way that Erik wants so badly that Charles can taste it.

 _please please please Charles Charles I need, I need, please..._ the desperate pleading is a little more muted than it used to be, and Charles moans happily at the thought that he has sated some part of Erik's hunger.

 _Dearest, I'll give you what you need_ Charles tells him, biting his neck, and Erik whimpers, a tiny, embarrassed sound that Charles loves. "You make such nice noises for me," he murmurs, sitting up to get the lube as Erik shudders beneath him. Erik watches with wide eyes, about to close them as Charles slicks his fingers. _No, Erik. I want you to watch._

Erik gasps, and forces his eyes open, biting his lip and staring at Charles, full of embarrassment and lust. He feels unbearably vulnerable, but he trusts Charles. His mind flashes to his helplessness on Shaw's table as a child, and Charles kisses him again, trying to ground him in their moment. He feels Erik relax under him again, and strokes slippery fingertips over and around his hole, coaxing his body to open up.

"Charles..." he sounds pained, even as the muscle relaxes, letting Charles in. "Please..."

"What do you need, dearest?" Charles asks, sliding one finger in up to the knuckle. Erik makes a soft, high noise that makes Charles want to bite him.

"More," Erik growls, grabbing Charles's hair with one hand, eyes flashing. Charles grins down at him, pulling back just enough to go from one finger to three, kissing Erik to help him muffle his deep groan. 

"Better?"

"Ohh..." His eyes flutter shut as Charles stretches him, his hand still tangled in Charles's hair.

"I should buy you a toy," Charles murmurs. "Something nice and big to fuck you with, or something I could leave in for a while."

Erik whimpers, gazing up at Charles with hooded eyes and parted lips. "Please, Charles," he whispers, calmer now but all the more desperate.

 _Yes_ Charles says, and replaces his fingers with his cock as smoothly as he can manage. The sound Erik makes in response is... Charles doesn't know what to classify it as, but it's beautiful, low and broken and sweet. Charles shudders, staring down into Erik's wide eyes as he sinks deeper and deeper into his body. "There, sweet boy," Charles murmurs, grinding as deep as he can possibly get, filling Erik up and moaning, high and soft. He can feel Erik loving the sound and smiles down at him before turning all his focus to fucking Erik deep and hard and slow. Deliberate, with a hard little grind at the deepest point of each stroke. It hurts Erik just a little and he loves it, this feeling of Charles right at one of his physical limits, not just touching it, but caressing it over and over. Erik's thighs start to tremble where they're holding onto Charles, and he lets out a harsh, low sound somewhere between a grunt and a groan with each thrust, feeling so close to coming and so far away at the same time, stranded on a plateau of arousal. He babbles and pleads in Yiddish and German, and Charles catches fragments of memory from him, of beautiful boys in school and Asher, his first kiss and one of the many dead in the camps. 

There's deep grief winding through Erik's pleasure, and Charles soothes him with a steady murmur in his mind and with his body moving in Erik's, reminding him they're both alive, a victory in itself. Their hearts beat together, fast and hard and steady. Erik sobs and clings to Charles so hard his back will be bruised tomorrow, and bites his shoulder to muffle a loud, low cry, a sound of shameless hunger.

Charles murmurs affirmation into Erik's mind, and projects his own fierce joy and awe that he trusts him, that he's worthy of being something such a guarded man holds onto. Erik snuffles and sobs again, the low, muffled noise turning into a loud groan as his nails dig in harder than ever and he clenches hard around Charles as he speeds up.

"Yes," Charles says, stroking Erik's hair and holding him to the crook of his neck, "yes, that's it, come for me, let me feel how much you love this." His voice breaks as Erik shudders and lets out a broken, choked-off sound that would be a full-throated wail if they weren't in a hotel. He comes without either of them touching his cock, and Charles comes with him, muffling his own long moan in Erik's shoulder.

They lie there like that for a long time afterward, Erik shuddering and making little hiccuping noises as he catches his breath, still clinging to Charles, who just strokes his hair and breathes with him. As Erik calms down, he cups Charles's face in both hands and pulls him down to kiss him again and again, letting out a soft, shocked gasp as Charles starts to get hard again inside him.

"Is this all right?" Charles asks, starting to slowly rock again, and Erik's soft laughter makes him tighten around Charles with little fluttering squeezes that make him moan and hide his face in Erik's chest.


	7. Chapter 7

There's a whole series of sweeps planned, allowing Charles to contact people on a personal level, and not to overwhelm himself with too many new students at once. Sean is their last stop for this set, and catch up to him in an aquarium, completely failing to get off with a nice girl his own age and then scaring the fish for amusement. After she leaves, they flank him and ask him where he's currently living.

He's technically homeless just now, and shuttling between various couches and guestrooms and the drug den where they agree to meet up with him again. It's a nice, cozy sort of drug den, at least. There's apparently a whole pack of these skinny kids living there and making up the rent with crumpled one-dollar bills, living off of pizza and the kindness of strangers. Once he and Erik have the address he sits back and lets Erik drive, reaching ahead toward all those young minds, bright even with a haze of... hashish? over them. He gets a little lost in it, having to concentrate to weave his way around all the intervening minds of the city. The car stops and he looks up, expecting that ramshackle three-story house with the sagging rain gutters and the lawn chairs on the roof.

Instead, they're in front of an old brick building. "Carl's Deli?"

"We were going to go empty-handed?" Erik asks, blinking at him.

Charles chuckles. "I suppose not."

They leave with a dozen foot-long sandwiches, each one loaded with whatever had seemed right to Erik at the time. Charles defers to him as the expert on poverty, and was clearly right to do so when they reach their destination. There are a dozen kids in the house, and the dozen sandwiches disappear with alarming rapidity. Between huge bites of pastrami on rye, Sean gestures for them to sit with him.

"So, what's up? You guys truant officers, narcs, or looking for ass? Because we don't do any of that."

Charles sighs deeply. "It saddens me that you're the second much-younger man to assume that Erik and I are looking for sex."

"Hey, I just said you _could_ be. Doesn't mean I'm not glad to get the sandwich."

Erik chuckles. "We're actually looking for members of our own kind." The coins in Charles's right trouser pocket slip out and float over the tabletop, spinning slowly in midair. Sean blinks and stares for a long moment.

 _We know you're like us,_ Charles tells him, and he jumps and then grins.

"Holy shit, for real?"

"For real," Erik says, putting Charles's loose change back where he found it.

"I'll show you my trick after I eat, okay?"

"Okay," Charles says. He glances around as Sean finishes his meal, taking in the piles of trash and clothing and comic books, as well as an enormous hookah and a poster for some band he has never heard of. There are childish and psychedelic murals on the walls, and Charles feels a sense of deep familiarity and profound alienation. He has never really dared get into psychedelia and its accompanying subcultures, not sure enough of his hard-won control. Glancing into Erik's mind, he sees that his friend is more at ease here than himself, and smiles.

_Prying, Charles?_

_Not trying to, darling._

Erik shows him a memory then, of smoking hashish with a prostitute in Amsterdam. She's a beautiful woman, with brown skin and red hair that both come naturally, and her hands are deft and soft as she shows Erik how to hold the pipe.

_It's soothing. Good painkiller, too._

Charles really hates how much Erik knows about pain, and is glad when Sean engulfs the last of his sandwich and leads them outside. There's a wilderness of broken glass and other junk in one end of the yard, and several pairs of acoustic earmuffs. Sean hands one to each of them.

"This is gonna get loud," he says, and then waits for them to get the muffs situated before turning his back to them and facing the refuse pile. He hauls in a huge breath and lets it out in a high scream that's barely audible with ear protection and then rises so high that it would be inaudible without, a sound Charles can feel in his teeth. Something deep in the pile explodes, and Erik curses and laughs, both of them dodging pebbles. Sean turns to them, covered in dust and grinning. 

Erik pulls his earmuffs off and grins back. "That's a good trick."

Sean laughs and blushes, looking every bit as young as he is and kind of alarmingly cute. Charles sets that thought aside and begins his pitch. Sean is of course a bit enchanted with the idea of being a mutant G-man, but says that he needs to sleep on it.

"You guys can crash here if you want," he adds. It turns out that nobody stays in the attic because the roof leaks, but today was cloudless and there's no rain in the forecast and Erik is feeling a weird and inchoate longing for improvised lodgings. It's a feeling like homesickness, and this way is logistically better, anyhow. Sean can give them his answer in the morning and they can leave with or without him with no further travel.

Piled blankets and a mattress dragged up the stairs make things surprisingly comfortable. There's a funny little domestic glow from Erik as he makes the most of their bedding, and Charles loves him so much he can hardly stand it, watching those long and capable hands arrange the blankets. Erik glances up and smiles in a way that makes Charles wonder if he's projecting without knowing it. Before he can ask, Sean pokes his head in and cordially invites them to the smoking lounge. Charles declines, but after a questioning glance in his direction that Charles answers with a pulse of acceptance, Erik disappears with Sean.

Curled up in their improvised bed and reading over his own recent notes, Charles periodically skims over the minds of the house's occupants, fascinated by the loose, hazy warmth that's slowly overtaking Erik. He caresses that sleek mind with his own, a wordless request for permission to go a little deeper. Erik allows him, sharing his amusement and the taste of marijuana smoke as he hoards it for an endless moment and then lets it out in a series of lazy rings. The kids admire this parlor trick, and it's enchanting to feel Erik enjoying it. Charles's attention wanders,always eventually coming back to Erik, following him through thanking their hosts and making a couple of peanut butter sandwiches, which he thoughtfully brings up to share.

Charles really does think that they're just going to nestle down together and sleep the sleep of the just, but Erik shivers in his arms and kisses him, slow and wet and hungry. His mind is full of smoky warmth, but he knows who he's with and what he's doing. He rolls onto his back and takes Charles with him, kissing him again and whimpering into his mouth. Charles is more thankful than ever that they actually have proper lubricant now, slicking his fingers and reaching into Erik's boxers to rub slow circles on his hole, doing some whimpering of his own as Erik's body practically sucks him in, completely open and trusting and more relaxed than is probably physically possible for Erik without pharmaceutical help. He writhes and whines as Charles works him open, and the sound he makes when Charles slides his fingers out is heartbreaking. 

"Hush," Charles murmurs, "it's all right." He pulls a shirt that already needs to be laundered out of his bag, and arranges it under Erik's hips. "It's not cricket to get slick all over the blankets." Erik laughs softly and then melts into neediness again when Charles pushes two fingers into him.

_More Charles please more I need_

Charles shudders and goes from two fingers to three to four as quickly as he dares while Erik whines and crams a fistful of blanket into his mouth. Fantasies are slipping out again, hazy and easy and richly detailed. Bizarre, dreamlike things, mixed and altered memories and through it all that hunger for more. Erik can never be full enough, and groans as the tip of Charles's thumb pushes into him. The full width of his knuckles is right up at Erik's hole now, and he gives a meaningful grind forward, moaning at the way Erik bears down on it, his body slowly opening even more. Charles shudders and lubes his hand, biting his lip and whining, so hard it aches.

Erik opens his eyes for a moment, gazing up at Charles as he starts to swallow up his whole hand. Charles pants like he's running uphill, gaze locked with Erik's until his eyes roll back as he wraps around Charles's wrist and squeezes hard. He drags in a deep and ragged breath, but somehow keeps his silence long enough to cram the blanket into his mouth before letting out a groan that's loud even muffled. Charles kisses him, taut and desperate against Erik's limp body. He begs mind-to-mind to share what Erik is feeling, to go with him over the edge. Erik's mind opens with the same easy grace his body has, and Charles kisses him again to muffle something that's almost a scream as they both come, shaking in the same spasm as Erik clenches and clenches and clenches around his hand.


	8. Chapter 8

Charles takes care of the clean-up, because Erik is pretty much out of it, mumbling and hugging one of the improvised pillows and mumbling to himself in a mush of Yiddish and German half-words, his mind full of soft colors. He is endearingly happy when Charles crawls in beside him at last, letting go of the pillow to hold onto Charles instead and making a strange and sweet little noise in his throat. Charles smiles and hugs him, nestling in against his chest and soothing both of them down into real sleep.

There's hardly any trace of this in the morning, of course. Erik puts every piece of his armor back into place, letting it crack only to grin from ear to ear when Sean says that he has decided to come with them. The grin causes Sean's resolve to waver, but only for a moment. Charles quietly leaves some cash for food and presumably for cannabis as well, and Sean packs up his few things and says his farewells.

Charles is glad to see Raven again, as well as his other students. Angel hasn't adjusted as well as he was hoping she would, but Darwin and Alex seem to have made fast friends, which is a good thing because Darwin keeps Alex from teasing Hank too much.

Naturally Erik is also annoyed when they find the kids dancing around and committing various acts of mayhem, including Darwin, who's theoretically old enough to know better. But there's a deeper anger that has nothing to do with the kids and everything to do with the situation that Charles doesn't notice at first, busy fussing around like the schoolteacher he is. After he chases them off to their rooms, he starts to realize what a poisonous rage Erik is feeling. 

Touching that roiling mind, Charles sees a dreadful reflection of himself, someone who only cares about having his pitch ruined. He doesn't realize that they're on the lip of a war and that these are goddamn children and Erik hates him for it. Only a little, but it hurts. Charles has been pacing, and stops now, giving Erik a look that enrages him for some reason. He actually has to take a deep breath to keep from getting physically violent. It's hurtful and scary and Charles is reminded of fables about venomous creatures.

"Erik..." he reaches out but doesn't dare touch, and Erik just sits there and glares at him. He's sitting on Charles's bed, and both of them are wondering if they will ever be able to set foot in a hotel room again without thinking of each other.

"Charles, don't you understand?" Erik sounds exhausted, voice a little hoarse. "It's not about the children misbehaving! The children are bound for war, Charles. Are you prepared for that? They aren't!"

He sighs. "Erik..."

"Don't fucking tell me it won't come to that, Charles."

They have a long, bitter, and fruitless argument after that, and Erik storms out and stays gone all night. He's back the next day to help with the kids, but he barely says a word to Charles, who does his best not to moon over him too obviously. He can feel Erik wanting to hold him and to hit him in waves, but he's calmer when Charles finds him that evening. Erik isn't expecting him, and only radiates more surprise when Charles apologizes to him, the two of them standing by the truncated statue and not looking at each other.

"I'm sorry, Erik." Charles says, hands clasped behind his back. "You've seen more suffering than I can imagine, and just because I don't want you to be right doesn't mean you aren't."

Erik sighs, turning to look down into his eyes and finding Charles as endearing as he is exasperating. "This doesn't change anything, but thank you."

"You're more than welcome." There's another long silence, and then Charles speaks into his mind. _That said, you want to come back to mine?_

 _Insolent,_ Erik purrs, knowing that Charles knows it isn't a refusal.

Erik finds Charles's current hotel room is almost obnoxiously comfortable, but right now he can't be annoyed. The second the door is shut behind them, Charles is pushing Erik's shirt up, catching a glimpse of thought about it being about time for Erik to overhaul his wardrobe again. He's getting tired of these three turtlenecks, even if he does think of them as consecrated by Charles's pawing hands, which is such an unbearably sweet thought that it makes Charles shake. He pulls this one off over his head and then grunts lightly in surprise as Charles latches onto one nipple, suckling hungrily, with just a touch of his teeth. He drops the shirt to hold Charles there, fingers knotted into his hair, and he hums, making a slight smacking noise as he switches sides. 

Erik sighs, leaning back against the door and letting Charles attack his chest. With their usual pattern of Erik being either desperate to be fucked or desperate for control, Charles hasn't really gotten a chance to do this, and now he suckles so long and so happily that he can feel amusement through Erik's arousal.

 _Were you not breastfed enough?_ Erik asks, and Charles laughs.

"Maybe not. Or maybe you just have _fantastic_ tits." Erik actually blushes at that, making Charles laugh harder as he gets a grip on his belt and tows him over to the bed. Getting Erik out of his remaining clothes turns into a wrestling match, and Charles ends up wearing his undershorts and one sock, pinned under a naked Erik and weak with laughter. Erik doesn't help at all with his hair standing up in the most ridiculous way and his gaze as intense as ever. 

Charles at last manages to restrain himself to a few giggles as Erik grins at him, swooping down for a kiss. Charles rolls them over, the bed thankfully wide enough to accommodate the maneuver, and yanks his sock off with his toes as Erik strips off his last garment. "There," Charles says, "now we're properly arranged."

"Oh?"

"Well, I was hoping to have you on your back," he says, and gently bites one nipple, making Erik hiss and wriggle under him. "I like to watch you forget everything and just feel."

"Fuck," Erik whispers, and swallows hard, pulling the drawer open by the metal in the handle. Charles grins down at him, and fishes out the lube. He's not actually trying to tease, but he doesn't want this to hurt at all, so Erik is cursing him and begging him by the time he's open enough. Charles hushes him with a kiss, and then pushes into him. Erik whines and bites his lip, digging his nails into Charles's back.

"Yes, love," Charles croons, "there you go." He starts fucking him deep and slow, and Erik moans, melting under him and then cramming a corner of the pillow into his mouth as Charles starts to suck and nibble at his chest again. It's incredibly thrilling to have someone as watchful and dangerous as Erik so passive and trusting under him, and Charles keeps the pace slow, wanting to last. Erik whimpers, his cock twitching and drooling precome all over his belly. Charles experimentally thrusts harder, and Erik cries out, his eyes welling up as a clear droplet runs down the underside of his cock. "Fuck," Charles breathes, "that's what I wanted." He licks a tear from Erik's cheek, shuddering. _I love that you let me see you like this. I love that you let me have you._

_Charles Charles Charles please harder please please_

He groans, shifting his hips to get a little deeper and biting down on Erik's shoulder, holding on as he pounds into him. It doesn't matter if the bed is too loud. He'll make anyone who cares forget, and he can feel a spike of unbearable arousal in Erik at the thought of Charles using his powers that way. He growls and bites harder, and Erik lets out a high-pitched, breathless cry, eyes staring unseeing at the ceiling. _Oh god fuck me fuck me break me use me CHARLES_ He comes without either of them touching his cock, and Charles pounds him through it for the few seconds he can before he's grinding as deep into Erik as he can get, panting helplessly into the crook of his neck. Erik whimpers, clenching on Charles's soft cock, and he sobs when Charles raises his head to lick his tears away again.

"Oh fuck, Charles." Erik's voice is hoarse and cracked, and he moans when Charles kisses him. "Oh..." He pants for breath, clinging to Charles. "I.." _Next time. The next time you fuck me you can use your powers on me._

Charles groans, kissing him again. _I'll ask you at the time, but I'm hoping you'll still be in the mood for it._

Erik quivers under him, and then yawns. _I didn't get much sleep last night._

 _Get some rest, then. I'll clean us up._ Charles sends the words on a wave of love, and lets Erik hold him for a while longer.


	9. Chapter 9

Erik only agrees to go to Russia out of bloodlust, and Charles isn't really sure how he feels about his own involvement. To Erik at least this almost feels homey. Preparing to go covertly into a place full of enemies. Hell, they're even chasing Shaw, that bastard who has consumed so much of Erik's life with vengeance and pain. It makes Charles sick to feel how long Erik's memory is of doing this, and he has to take a long walk away from everyone to collect himself. He does manage to help Sean develop some exercises to improve his fine modulation as part of the ongoing effort to avoid errors like the one that blew out the plate-glass window, which is one accomplishment for the day.

That night he's far too nervous to sleep, and paces and researches obsessively, trying to get his brain to at least slow if it won't stop. There's a pretty reliable way to do that, but Erik has been gone all day, 'putting a few things in order.' Charles assumes this means visiting some kind of weapons cache. He doesn't see him before nightfall, and he's not expecting to.

At long last Charles goes back to his hotel to sit and be nervous. He jumps when the phone rings, but it's Erik, asking if he can come up. "Of course you can," Charles tells him, reaching out and caressing his mind. He can feel Erik's shiver, and isn't surprised when he closes the distance between them as fast as he can. Charles opens the door for Erik and clings to him as soon as it's shut behind him. He's shaking already, feeling restless and wild, and Erik rumbles deep in his chest, holding Charles close and covering his face in kisses. It soothes him a little, and he sighs.

"Erik, darling?"

"Yes?"

"You said I could use my powers on you next time."

"So I did," Erik says softly. He's all sleek metal and control, a powerful and slightly smug predator, and Charles is suddenly filled with the urge to take him apart. He wants to break Erik, to melt him down, to make him writhe and sob and beg. He lets a little of this bleed through, and Erik shivers. "Okay," he whispers. He's a little nervous, but more curious, embarrassed, and aroused. A filthy vein of inventive fantasy runs through his mind almost too fast for Charles to catch, and Charles grins, taking Erik by the lapel of his leather jacket and pulling him over to the bed.

 _How do you want me?_ Erik asks, and Charles tries not to moan.

 _Hands and knees for now,_ Charles says, and Erik strips with brutal efficiency and takes the position, dropping onto his elbows and resting there, half-hard already just from being on display for Charles. The sight of him posed like that makes Charles slow down a little. He kneels beside Erik and presses kisses to the faint scars on his back, making him tremble. He feels helpless and exposed every time Charles touches his scars, and he isn't sure if he likes it or not. Now he squirms, moaning when Charles bites the back of his neck. Charles makes him a wordless but still filthy promise, and Erik whimpers. His body almost sucks Charles's slicked fingers in, and he shudders and hangs his head, breathing deep and fast as Charles strokes him open. His heaving sides with their prominent ribs make Charles think of horses, and he shares the thought, trying to make Erik see his own wild beauty.

"Oh, Erik," he breathes into his ear, "you're so fucking perfect." He bites the crook of his neck, making him whine. "Such pretty holes for me to fuck." He pushes the fingers of his free hand into Erik's mouth, and he moans and sucks hungrily.

Desperate as he is now, Charles is careful not to hurt Erik, to take his time even as Erik's impatience mounts and his cock drips precome onto the sheet. _Charles, Charles please just fuck me, fill me up..._

Charles sighs, and finally slides his fingers out so he can push his cock in, fingertips pressing against Erik's tongue. A thought flashes from Erik, the idea that he's open for Charles to use in any way that he wants and that he loves it, that he wants Charles to fuck him until he forgets everything, to warm him and fill him and hold him down to this moment. Charles groans and sinks as deep into him as he can, finger-fucking his mouth and making him moan high and sweet, body clenching hard and holding for an endless moment.

 _Oh god CHARLES_ Erik's telepathic conversation always deteriorates at times like this, wobbling through 'volume' and 'register.' Neither of the words really apply, but there's an entire new dictionary to be compiled for telepathic sensations. He shivers, his mind wrapping around Erik's like a gripping hand, kneading and stroking just a little, making Erik feel ecstatic and barely afraid.

 _I won't hurt you, dearest,_ Charles says, grinding deeper into Erik's body and making him really feel it. _Open to me, precious boy,_ he croons into Erik's mind. _Let me see your dirtiest dreams and make them happen._

Erik sobs, and fragmented memories come first. Guilty glimpses of grown men from his early childhood, memories of the awe and fascination the first time he saw a horse with his cock out, and of how Charles fisting him had felt, like Charles had had his heart in his hand. Charles shudders, fucking Erik deep and slow as he asks him what he wants now. A fantasy emerges immediately, even if there is a little flare of shame with it. Charles has caught a flicker of this idea before, that Erik wants the feeling of a vast and physically impossible cock, bigger than a fist and bigger than a horse's, something that really would touch his heart if physical capacity had anything to do with this.

Charles is a little embarrassed to tell such an intimate lie about the size of his cock. From his side this would be a pretty standard male power fantasy, but Erik wants it, and that makes everything different. _We'll start slowly,_ Charles says, feeling nervous and fluttery and virginal, because no one has ever let him do anything like this. He tunes into Erik's sensations, and tweaks them just a little. Makes the cock inside him just a little thicker, makes it reach just a little deeper. Erik groans, a light sweat breaking out all over his body, long muscles quivering. The noise rises up into a soft keen as Charles carefully slides the sensation up, bigger and deeper, stretching more and more and making Erik's body an impossible sheath for cock. He's babbling across the telepathic link now, and he's drooling onto the pillow, too overcome even to suck on Charles's fingers anymore, his mouth loose and wet around them.

 _More?_ Charles asks, and Erik moans.

 _YES o fuck Charles Charles..._ He trails off as Charles adds even more size, and then puts a little strain into this impossible fucking, going faster and rougher, causing just the lightest edge of pain. Erik is stuffed and aching now, and almost can't clench at all around the enormous mass of Charles's phantom cock. He keens again, the sound almost a squeal. Charles grunts with effort, slamming into him and making him feel it all over his body, a merciless shockwave of pleasure. There are tears on the pillow to go with the drool now, and Erik's mouth vibrates with his moans. Charles's fingertips are actually starting to prune from contact with Erik's saliva, but he can't possibly take them out now, when Erik is pushing them deeper like he's trying to choke himself, moaning and moaning, the sound muffled and automatic. Charles groans and asks Erik if they can come now, that he'll make them go together. Erik is ready, and another fantasy comes sliding to the surface, of Charles filling him with come, pouring thick and hot and silky into Erik, coating him and marking him and glutting him with heat.

Charles shifts the size fantasy back to a vaguely possible scale, and fucks deep and rough until he's coming and Erik is squeezing him in uncontrollable waves. The moment stretches out forever, and Charles pours into Erik, making him feel stuffed and filthy with at least a quart of fluid, a massive, ludicrous amount. Erik at last lets Charles's fingers out of his mouth, babbling vowel sounds into the pillow as he feels a heavy pulse of slick drip down his balls to the sheet below.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is there a tag for big stupid impossible hentai cocks? Please advise.


	10. Chapter 10

Charles tries to hold it together when they get word of the devastation waiting for them. Shaken enough by Frost's information and Erik's violence, the news of Darwin's death and Angel's desertion is shattering. In a strange way, Angel bothers him more, that she voluntarily went with the man who murdered Darwin. His first thought is to send all the others home, out of his depth and ashamed to have failed them so completely. They refuse, and before Charles can even argue, Erik has suggested vengeance. It horrifies Charles, but he can feel the resolve in each of the minds around him, and knows that he stands no chance of winning this argument. And damn him to hell, but Erik is right. If war is coming, they need their army.

He's expecting Erik to have something to say about the mansion, and he does. It's a joke and not a joke at all, and slides between Charles's ribs like a blade. Raven, bless her, sees it and comes forward, taking Charles's arm and reminding Erik that she shared this 'hardship' with Charles. Erik glances away, taking in the full sprawling madness of the house and grounds and feeling a little guilty, and then follows Raven in as she leads the tour.

Even the abbreviated tour of the mansion takes a long time. The vast kitchen, the library, the honest-to-god ballroom, and what always feels like hundreds of bedrooms and studies. Erik is trying not to project just how much he's being reminded of brothels and the homes of escaped Nazi war criminals with each lovely antique and expensive lamp. A few memories flicker out anyway, of breaking into places like this and of walking in, skin buzzing with need and pockets weighed down with Nazi gold.

There's still a pall over everyone, of course, but Charles's students are young enough to run up and down the corridors and argue over possession of various bedrooms. Charles waits for them to settle, his heart aching, and then leads them to the kitchen for lunch, which is just sandwiches and tea because that's all Charles trusts himself to make. It soothes him to have all his students here and fed, and when they disperse afterward it's much lonelier than it should be. There's a flicker of compassion from Erik, and because no one is watching, he holds Charles for a long moment in the afternoon stillness of the kitchen. Even now he can't help but be a little amused. Erik wants to protect Charles's outraged softness. The same quality that makes him hate Charles sometimes is making him tender now, because a human being is nothing but a paradox wrapped in skin.

They spend all the rest of that day training, breaking for a short dinner and getting right back to it. By the time Charles has soothed Alex's rage at not even being safe to practice like the others as well as a fit of furious tears over Darwin, helped to set up weights and punching bags for everyone, run a mile with Hank, distributed sweatsuits because no one has anything even resembling workout gear (and Erik had been no help, raising an eyebrow and talking about color coordination and too many gifts spoiling the children,) and finally managed to have a cup of tea and a shower, he's pretty much completely exhausted. There's clearly something left, though, because finding Erik in his bed only makes him despair a little.

Erik smirks as if he's the one who can read minds, and says, "We can just cuddle." Of course Erik still has energy, and Charles is able to forgo brooding over just why Erik is in such good shape in favor of pouncing on him, hands snaking under his arms to tickle him, making him kick and yelp, breathless with laughter even as he mounts his counter-attack. They roll back and forth across the wide mattress, kicking the duvet off and twisting the rest of the bedclothes into snakes as they mercilessly exploit every single ticklish spot on each other's bodies.

Once they have thrashed the bed into a complete wreck, they lie there side by side, panting out the last of their laughter. They stay like that for a long moment, and then Charles takes Erik's hand, lacing their fingers together. He squeezes gently, and Erik returns the pressure.

"I'm glad to have you here, my friend," Charles says, turning his head to smile at Erik, who smiles back, and reaches one long, lazy arm down to the floor to collect the top sheet as Charles rolls over to cuddle in against his chest, humming in contentment.

"I did mean what I said before," Erik murmurs, draping the sheet over them both and stroking Charles's hair, curling small locks of it around his fingers and tugging gently.

"Mmm. Give me a minute."

"If you're determined, I can do most of the work." He offers a vision of himself fucking Charles, or of sucking his cock or riding him, and Charles shivers.

 _Tantalizing as those are, love, I have some ideas of my own._ And tired as Charles is, he wants Erik under him. He wants to feel smooth scars and sleek skin, and all that power quivering with need. He lets a little of this bleed through, and Erik bites his lip, cheeks flushing.

 _Okay_ Erik says, and lets Charles roll him onto his front, rubbing his shoulders and pressing a kiss to the back of his neck.

_Is it all right if I--_

_YES_

Charles can't really be surprised at Erik's willingness to forgo most preparation. He's always so impatient, and so inured to ignoring his own discomfort and pain. Charles slicks himself and ruts along Erik's hole to spread the lubricant, making him whine and wriggle. Two fingers next, and then three, twisting deeper as Erik pants and opens for him.

"Ohhh..." he's muffled by the pillow, the sound soft and shocked as Charles adds the tip of his little finger. They both remember Charles's entire hand inside Erik and moan together as Erik rocks back and forth to grind against the mattress and to fuck himself on Charles's fingers. There's a little burning with this, but nothing more. Charles won't really hurt him, and shivers, sliding his fingers out and nudging Erik's thighs wider. Erik rises a little bit, helping Charles guide himself in, but Charles presses him to the mattress with his first long, slow thrust. He wants Erik like this, stretched out and at his mercy. This way he has to take what Charles gives him, and they both shudder at the shared thought.

Erik moans softly with every breath, muffling himself in the pillow as Charles slides his hands along Erik's arms to stretch them out and pin them over his head, his palms cradling the backs of Erik's hands as he laces their fingers together. Charles fucks him slow and hard and deep, a steady pace that lulls Erik even as arousal winds tighter and tighter in his gut. Charles kisses the vulnerable spot between Erik's shoulder blades and he sobs, spine curling to push his hips up and back. His arms flex and Charles groans, biting his shoulder and making him keen softly as he holds on, speeding up and just barely pulling out with each stroke, tiny, hard motions as deep inside Erik as he can get, rolling him forward against the mattress. Each pass obviously strokes his cock, but the smooth sheet is rubbing hard and teasing on his nipples, making him crave a hard pinch, and the broad solidity of the bed and the weight of Charles on his back make him feel safe. 

Charles loves feeling that echo from Erik, that sweet, aching joy. He covers Erik's back in kisses and loves him so much he can hardly bear it. It's painful not letting it all through their connection and not saying the words, but even now he doesn't dare. He just buries his face in the nape of Erik's neck and fucks him harder, jarring helpless little cries out of him.

 _Charles fuck i can't i can't oh god oh god oh oh i'm fucking crying again how do you always do this to me CHARLES_ He gasps into the pillow, shaking and then coming so quickly that it takes him by surprise. He quakes under Charles, tightening over and over, whining as Charles fucks him through it and then asks and receives permission as quick as thought to use his powers when he comes, giving Erik the illusion of being flooded.

Once they're both still, he lies there for a long time. Erik can take the weight. He's enjoying it, actually, as much as Charles is enjoying being stretched over him like a blanket, slowly softening inside him.


	11. Chapter 11

Charles has a complicated relationship with the feel of a gun in his hand. They're so heavy and brutal and obviously made to kill, but also sleek and beautiful in their utility. Like Erik himself, who is grinning like a maniac as he waits for Charles to shoot him point-blank in the head. Aside from any personal objection to this, it's a poorly-constructed exercise, and Charles tells him so, asking what happened to the man who nearly killed himself trying to raise a submarine. Erik sighs and accepts his gun back, claiming to be fueled by rage alone. As far as Charles is concerned, all it has done is nearly get Erik killed all these years, but they don't waste time arguing about it. Instead, Charles leads him off to a groundskeeper's shed where there's some heavy equipment for him to lift.

Devising exercises for his students is actually a lot of fun. He opens up the bunker for Alex to work in and finds some plate glass for Sean to shatter and does his best to talk Hank into using his full potential. After Charles has put out all the fires in the bunker, he has to help Hank work on a set of gliding membranes for Sean, and finally staggers off to bed really too exhausted to get up to anything. Erik is in his bed again, but if anything he's even more tired, mind and body aching with his efforts. He's clean and full and warm, though, and how much that will always mean to Erik is a pain in Charles's chest. He slides into bed beside him and nestles in under his chin, holding him and already feeling half-asleep.

"Poor baby," Erik purrs, petting his hair.

"Shut it, Lensherr," Charles mumbles, pressing into the touch. 

Erik just laughs, and kisses the top of his head. "You have been working very hard, darling."

"And so have you." He takes Erik's other hand, kissing the palm. "So we've earned our rest."

Erik will have to leave before the children are up, but for now they can sleep in each other's arms, dreams bleeding together in the dark. In the first light of dawn and a cacophony of birdsong, Erik gets up and prowls away. Charles barely sees him go, just half-opening his eyes for a moment as Erik stops in the doorway, looking back.

It's another action-packed day, of course. Hank has worked through the night and has Sean's wings nearly complete. By afternoon, they're ready for the first test flight. In theory, Sean can bounce sound off the ground to soar on the reflected waves. In actuality, he has yet to try the soaring part. They start with a window over a survivable drop, hoping the bushes won't interfere with the acoustics too much. Erik and the other kids lean out the next window to watch, looking entirely too amused.

Sean plummets screaming into the bushes, and Erik laughs hysterically even as he runs down with the others to help him up. Hank is full of apologies, but Sean just tells him to fuck off, and Charles has to spend a long time soothing him, his mood only made worse by Erik's recurrent attacks of laughter. It always overtakes him at the worst possible moment, and at last he goes for a run until Charles reaches out and calls him back.

"Really, Erik," he says, once they're alone and the children are all sleeping off the day's exertions, "you know how hard it is for people that age to take being laughed at."'

He sighs, stretching his arms over his head. "I know, I know, but you must allow that the boy is ridiculous."

"Aren't we all?" Charles asks.

"I suppose so, but I couldn't help it. You've made me giddy."

Charles snorts at this, but can't help but be touched as well. He rolls onto Erik and kisses his chest, their clothes already draped over the chair in a way Sharon Xavier never would have put up with. In her few sober moments, anyway. He ignores the thought as best he can, pressing his face to the hollow of Erik's throat and breathing in. Erik rumbles contentedly, holding him. Charles shivers, and sends Erik an impression of his weight on Charles. He rolls them over, pressing Charles into the mattress and grinning down at him.

“Better?”

“Yes.” Charles wraps his arms around Erik's neck and kisses him, feeling protected and a bit confused about why he wants that so much. Erik is glad to hold him down, though, and to kiss him in a way that's slow and rough and consuming. He rubs his hands down over Charles's flanks and up his arms, heavy and warming. His thoughts are possessive and feel like his hands on Charles's skin and somehow it's everything he needs. He mewls into Erik's mouth and clutches at his back, nails digging into his skin.

 _Such a sweet boy,_ Erik croons into his mind, the words all mixed up with the actual idea of sweetness, that sense that Erik could just eat him up. Charles whimpers, the sound rising and breaking with Erik's slow, rolling thrusts against him. “How do you want it?” Erik purrs, and Charles shudders, sending a wave of general acquiescence to any designs on him Erik might have. He's the proverbial child in a candy shop, unable to choose between his various delectable options and so defaulting to Erik's desires. It makes something flare up inside Erik, and he pins Charles's wrists with one hand, slicking the fingers of his other hand and then gripping his own cock to rub precome over Charles's hole, shuddering. His touch is gentle, and the predatory, possessive quality to his thoughts is just a gloss on the surface of something infinitely more tender. 

Charles shivers and then moans as Erik gently pushes in with one fingertip, panting and opening up, sucking Erik in down to the knuckle and making him curse softly in Yiddish. Charles chuckles, and Erik leans down to kiss him hungrily, overwhelmed with gratitude and a little guilt that someone like Charles trusts someone like him this much. He feels deeply and undeservedly lucky, and he knows that even if it's really the best thing, he won't be able to give this up, being close enough to feel each gasp, to be able to swallow up Charles's desperate little moans in kiss after kiss. Charles whines, writhing as much from this as from any physical touch, hips rolling as he fucks himself on Erik's first two fingers. He reaches out without words, just blasting Erik with his craving for more and making him groan and shudder as he slips out. 

He leaves Charles empty and wanting for a second that feels entirely too long, but then he's pushing into Charles with one long, smooth thrust, panting softly and trembling as he kisses Charles again, releasing his hands when Charles sends an image of his arms wrapped around Erik, holding him tight. Erik may allow more telepathic contact that anyone Charles has ever been in bed with before, but these melting, changeable power dynamics are familiar. Now that Erik is inside Charles he feels almost helpless, and sobs into Charles's shoulder as they cling to each other, rocking together.

 _fuck Charles I_ Erik cuts himself off, afraid to even think the word 'love,' and Charles just lets him, loving him regardless and holding onto him hard enough to bruise, keeping him here. Erik cries out and the headboard rattles against the wall and here in the eye of the storm it's easy for Charles to put a warm barrier of inattention around the sounds. The children are tired, anyway, there isn't much persuading to be done. Having his mind open like this along with the physical penetration is amazing. The light contact with the sleeping minds of his students is like lying naked by the fire, and Erik has found the perfect angle inside him, each stroke driving him higher and higher, the feeling radiating out through his body and mingling with that gentle warmth and the insistent, wet, hot, hungry quality of Erik's lust.

When Erik reaches for Charles's cock he bats his hand away, feeling like it would interfere. Erik chuckles breathlessly, but obeys, speeding up as his own climax approaches. He wants it to last, and Charles asks and granted permission in almost the same instant, using his powers to keep them both right where they are for another few minutes that feel like eons. Erik's mind writhes in the restraint, and Charles is so happy to feel no fear in that struggle that tears are streaming down his face as he cries out and comes, releasing Erik, who soundlessly pants as he follows a second later.

After a long, shattered moment of lying together and catching their breath, listening to the stillness of the house, Erik props himself up to gaze down at Charles's face. “About time I made you cry,” he murmurs, and Charles laughs, cupping his cheek and then blinking in surprise as Erik mutters, “Damn,” his eyes going wide as they fill with tears. Charles laughs and cries and kisses him, holding him close and rubbing his back.

_My poor darling, you just can't win._


End file.
